


The Dreams

by vidnyia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vidnyia/pseuds/vidnyia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krista's been having dreams of a freckled girl, but when she wakes, her memories fade. Coffee Shop AU, Reincarnation AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ymir

_“No! None of what you’re doing is making any sense at all!”_

_Everything spins; the ground shakes with each of the huge monster’s footsteps. Wind dries the tears from her face, but not before fresh ones fall, spilling from her burning eyes. The girl in front of her is looking back at her fiercely, her head the only part of her free from the monster she controls. Historia knows what she wants and she’s desperate for it, pleading with her expression -_ stay.

_The sound of horses running behind them; shouts of soldiers cutting through the cold wind, piercing her._

_“I don’t care about your reasons or your secrets!” Her scream is louder than them; it’s deafening, overwhelming. “No matter what happens! I’m on your side!”_

_The girl with the dark hair and the dark eyes and the freckles. The selfish girl, unafraid of anything or anyone, unwilling to serve others unless she was indebted to them. She was now the girl with fear in her eyes - Historia sees it; sees the way the terror in her overflows, passing the boundaries she had allowed. In her gritted teeth, the way her pupils dilate, how she looks at Historia - she is afraid._

_Time is blurry; scenes skip from one to the next. Suddenly Historia finds herself falling through the air; two titan shifters in battle right above her. Three years of training don’t go to waste. Her reflexes are fast, and her gear effective. She hears someone scream her name, and it’s agonising. Immediately she flies to the smaller titan, the girl she’s known for so long, and clings to her._

_She goes to scream back. Nothing comes out._

_Time skips again, and Historia’s shouting out to her. “From now on, let’s live for ourselves! I can’t explain it… but when I’m with you, I don’t feel scared!”_

_Her voice is hoarse and her throat pleads with her to stop screaming out the words with such force - but she doesn’t. “No matter where I am!”_

_Historia screams out, screams her name -_

_“Y-”_

And then she’s awake, sitting bolt upright again, sweat on her forehead and tears in her eyes. As the memories of the dream begin slipping from her mind she desperately tries to hold on to them, but they fall from her grasp like water through a net, sand through fingers.

Krista takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and lies back down. Yes, the dream came again, but she’s got work in the morning. Her phone is still playing the rain noises she’d put on to help her get to sleep; she listens to them intently, trying to distract herself from the flickering images of the freckled girl, whose name she tried to remember frantically. It never worked, and she lay for what felt like hours trying to pinpoint any kind of detail from her reoccurring nightmare, but it was all hazy, like a thick fog was covering everything in her mind, or like TV static, interference.

She checks her phone. Half four in the morning, and two texts from her ex girlfriend. She sighs, rolls over, and stares at the sun as it begins to rise tentatively from behind the horizon, bringing with it shades of orange and red that turn to blue once seven comes and Krista has to get up. She’s used to not sleeping after nightmares, so the time passes quickly, and she finds herself getting up, walking to the bathroom, washing her face. She hardly knows she’s doing any of it; she’s on autopilot, every day the same - get up, work, come home, cook, TV, sleep. 

Nightmare. And she’s bored of it all, but, of course, there’s the dreams to keep her thoughts occupied during the monotony of her everyday life - she rarely stopped trying to uncover the meaning of it. They aren’t just dreams to her. They’re something more, like a separate reality. Reality.

Time passes and she’s listening to sound of her feet against the pavement, cars rolling by, birds tweeting from the trees. The air is fresher in the morning and she’s grateful for her early shift, grateful to take in the sights of the streets before they are filled with people, overflowing, and never stopping, like currents through an electrical wire. It takes ten minutes to get from her apartment to the little coffee shop on the corner where she works. The bell chimes as she walks through the door, and immediately the smell of coffee hits her, strong. There aren’t any customers in yet, so she takes her time putting on her apron, smoothing down her hair, making small talk with her coworkers.

As per usual, Krista’s distracted. She cleans, she makes coffee, she cuts up cakes and puts them onto little white plates. She thinks of the dreams. How long had she even been having them? Years. Ever since she was little, a kid. They’d always plagued her. Sometimes she saw other people, and she could remember them well - a boy, angry and passionate, with a fire in his green eyes; another girl, a girl with dark hair and steely eyes and a red scarf, who had threatened to kill her; a short boy, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and smart. But she didn’t feel the same pull to them as the murky girl with freckles, the girl she always knew so well in her dreams but could never remember the name of.

Customers came and went; a pretty girl with a laptop comes in and smiles at Krista, and she vaguely wonders if she should ask the girl’s name. She doesn’t though; Krista isn’t good at relationships. She holds some odd sense that she was waiting for someone. But not a sweet and kind Disney princess kind of waiting, though. It’s the kind of wait that comes with a constant ache, like a part of _herself_ was missing. That’s another thing - in her dreams, she knows that her name isn’t Krista. At least, not in the most recent one. It was something else, something that felt more true to her, but as with everyone else’s names, it lies just out of her reach, like the end of a rainbow.

She’s in the middle of pouring a cup of coffee when the bell chimes, but she doesn’t turn around. There’s a customer waiting - two, now - and she’s pouring the milk into it when she feels a shiver run down her spine, like nails have been raked down a chalkboard. Her feet are starting to ache and she’s tired from the lack of sleep; her mind, too, is exhausted from the constant repetition of the details she can remember from her dream, and everything’s going over and over and over and-

“Historia?”

Slowly, slowly, Krista looks up from the cup of coffee in her hands and stares at the wall. Historia. So… familiar. Her name. Her name from the dream… that was it. For what felt like hours she just stood there, staring.

“Historia, is that you?”

She turns on her heels, slowly. Behind the burly guy with the thick beard waiting for his drink stood a girl, tall, willowy. She’s got dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail. She’s got dark eyes and they’re staring into Krista’s. She’s got a splattering of freckles on her cheeks, and the most dumbfounded expression on her face.

It all comes flooding back to her. The dreams; every tiny intricate detail of them, meticulously so, come flooding back.

“Ymir.”


	2. when morning comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why did you call me Historia?”
> 
> “Because that’s your name. Why did you call me Ymir?”
> 
> “My name’s Krista.”
> 
> Ymir stares at the ceiling, ignoring the sunrise. “How much do you remember?”
> 
> “What?”
> 
> “You know what. Come on, Historia, don’t play dumb with me, I thought you were done with that.”
> 
> Silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I would get around to writing a second chapter of this, but here it is, so I hope you enjoy. Please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Ostara

They don’t speak about it yet. In the night, they are a mess, a tangle of limbs, and the pouring rain from outside is drowned out by the sounds of their breathing, shallow yet deep, and wanting. It’s like however much they touch each other, nothing will ever be enough, and Ymir is breathless at the sight of Krista’s body in the dim light, the shape of it, every curve. It’s as if they’ve known each other for their whole lives, it comes that naturally. Ymir knows where to touch Krista without saying a word. Knows where to kiss her neck to make her shiver. Knows when she’s tiptoeing along the border between  _ too rough  _ and  _ just right _ ; knows how to curl her fingers just right to make Krista whimper and hold a hand over her mouth to stop her neighbors from hearing. Krista knows just what to do, too, and it’s the first time Ymir’s felt loved in her whole life. She gasps at the wholeness of it, the realness of what’s happening to her. It’s not just a memory anymore. It’s real.

Real. 

And when it’s over, they lie side by side on Krista’s bed, panting slightly, their smiles gleaming and loud in the silence. Krista feels completed, like a missing part of her has been returned, the puzzle piece lost for years found tucked behind the cushions of the sofa. Her heart sings, and it’s not until the early hours that she says anything. The sky is a fresh coat of paint on the window, new pastels in pink and orange and red. She watches it, feeling a million miles from the day before, when she was doing just the same. 

“You’ve been looking for me?” She says, carefully, her voice hushed; she doesn’t want to shatter the calmness with too sharp a tone.

“Of course I have.” Ymir’s voice is to-the-point; she cuts to the chase, no funny business, no waffling. She says what she says and she means it. Krista feels like she already knew this, but she’s not sure how.

Krista doesn’t say anything for a second, taking in the words, turning them over slowly.

“Why did you call me Historia?”

“Because that’s your name. Why did you call me Ymir?”

“My name’s Krista.”

Ymir stares at the ceiling, ignoring the sunrise. “How much do you remember?”

“What?”

“You know what. Come on, Historia, don’t play dumb with me, I thought you were done with that.”

Silence.

“Our past life? The  _ titans _ ?” 

Krista scrunches up her eyes, tight, so she can focus on the swirling patterns behind her eyelids. She opens them again and the pattern is on the ceiling. It hurts her head.

“It’s foggy,” she says. “I knew all of it when I looked at you, but… it’s hard to remember now. But… this is ridiculous! Past life, what are you, insane?”

Ymir rolls onto her side, looks at the girl lying next to her. Her hair is strewn across the pillow. She remembers the first time they’d had sex, hushed and up against the wall behind the training barracks, Sasha standing guard, and afterwards, they sat and laughed for a few minutes, eating the pastries Ymir had swiped from the kitchen. It had been simple enough to pay Sasha back. 

Her heart felt heavy as she realised that Historia didn’t remember this. It had been the best day of her life.

“Why else would you have known my name? Admit it. You’ve had the dreams.”

“They’re just flashes to me.” Krista can feel her headache pounding behind her eyes. She sighs deeply. Pauses. “That was amazing, earlier.”

Ymir smiles. “It was. But don’t change the subject. You can feel it, can’t you? You remember me?” 

“I feel like I’ve known you forever, but all I can really remember is your name, and…”

“And?”

Krista wouldn’t normally consider this; she’d felt it, yeah, but a past life? She isn’t religious like her father. There’s no such thing.

But in the cool morning air, her foot touching Ymir’s, Krista feels slightly differently about it all. It’s easier to consider the idea when she’s around. 

“If you remember it all, why don’t you just tell me?”

Ymir smiles again, the corners of her mouth just twitching slightly, and she reaches out to play with Krista’s hair, feeling it run through her fingers. 

“I will,” she says, “ later. Let’s go to sleep.”

* * *

For the first time in years, Krista sleeps dreamlessly. Her subconscious, for once, isn’t plagued with visions of some sort of past life she can’t decipher. She sleeps without interruption through the whole day, not waking until the sun sets and has its place taken by the moon.

When her mind wakes up Krista lies unmoving for a few moments, not opening her eyes. She doesn’t dare to check if Ymir is still beside her, or if she even existed. Everything that had happened feels real - she remembered everything, if that’s proof enough, but she is still wary to check.

Eventually she gathers the strength to open her eyes a fraction, and is met by darkness. She sits up. As her eyes adjust to the darkness Krista realises she’s alone - Ymir isn’t next to her; there are no clothes on the floor except her own. Had she really imagined the whole thing? Crestfallen, Krista falls back onto the pillows, and switches on her bedside lamp. It dimly lights the room, for a moment only affirming to her that she’d imagined everything - but then something catches Krista’s eye on the pillow beside her. 

A single brown, long hair. 

Krista’s heart begins to pound. She pulls off her bedcovers and quickly puts on her dressing gown. 

“Ymir?” She calls tentatively into her empty apartment. There’s no reply.

Walking into the kitchen Krita turns on the light and finds a hastily-written note on her counter. 

_ Historia. _

_ I’ve gone to work. Didn’t want to wake you up, you looked too cute, plus it seemed like you needed the sleep. Meet me at Rebecca’s - seven p.m., my treat. Hopefully you’ll have woken up by then.  _

_ Ymir. _

Krista breathes a long, deep, sigh of relief. 

“So she is real,” she murmured to herself. “What the fuck is going on?”

She sits down at her table, resting her head in her hands. Her mind spins, but her heart is soaring with happiness. Why question it? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. 

She checks her phone. It’s six pm, earlier than she had assumed. The winter evenings have a tendency to warp time and make it seem later than it actually is, Krista thinks, and goes to get ready to meet Ymir. 


	3. blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was trying to find you. And just when I was on the verge of giving up, well,” she gestures to Krista, “here you are.”
> 
> Krista smiles at her, but feels a familiar anxiety curl itself up in her chest. To her anxiety is a bear, coming home to hibernate in the winter, lying dormant, and waiting.
> 
> “But what now? We’ve found each other. This seems like the end of a story, not the beginning of one.”
> 
> “What are you talking about?” Ymir leans closer to Krista, admiring how beautiful she is. She has waited for so long to see her again. “This is the beginning of us.”

Ymir feels alive for the first time.

For twenty-five years she has felt incomplete, like she’s been living a half life. She always knew she wanted to find Krista - that was her goal. Now she has done it, but she’s not sure what to do next. She hadn’t considered the possibility that Krista wouldn’t remember their old life.

She sighs, pulls her scarf tighter around her neck, and checks her watch. She should be arriving in five minutes. It’s a freezing evening in December, and there’s a promise of snow. People hustle down the street, moving hastily to avoid staying out in the cold for any longer. Christmas lights had flickered on half an hour ago and flash from red to green.

Ymir thinks to herself as she watches the lights change colour. Calling Historia by the name Krista feels instinctively wrong. But if she didn’t know any other name than Krista, what was she to do?

_Kris_

“Are you ready to order?” Their waiter snaps them back to reality. 

“Oh, er-” Krista fumbles with the menu, feeling her cheeks flush red.

“Do you want a starter?” Ymir asks her.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, thanks,” Krista says. It’s Ymir’s treat, after all, and she doesn’t want to spend her money.

“Then we’ll both take the cioppino _ ,  _ please,” Ymir smiles up at the waiter to Krista’s surprise. “And a bottle of the house red.”

“How did you know I love cioppino?” Krista asks once he was gone. She’s stunned. 

Ymir grins, thinking back to eating a seafood stew not unlike this dish in her old life with Krista in their barracks, before everything had gone to shit. She has always found comfort in relieving these memories, but knowing she couldn’t share them with Krista taints them. They feel lonely now.

“I’m coming across like a stalker, but I know a lot about you, Historia.”

“You don’t seem to know my name.”

Ymir looks down at the tablecloth. “It’s not your real name. At least, not in our past life.”

“If I don’t remember, just tell me, then. I want answers; I’ve been living with this for years.”

Ymir pauses; thinks. She can’t bring herself to tell Krista what she did in their past life. She wants her to remember, so she doesn’t have to relieve the guilt right now. And she might not understand.

Krista closes her eyes for a second, takes a deep breath. When she opens them, nothing is different; they’re sat in the restaurant, Ymir is staring intently at her. She tries to think back to her dreams, to the events which took place in them and how Ymir is connected to her. But nothing is happening; they’re still right there. 

What she does see, however, is just how pretty Ymir is. Her freckles, her hair, her tan skin; she’s beautiful. She looks into her eyes, trying desperately to feel what she felt yesterday morning, which feels like so much longer ago. Ymir’s eyes are staring back at her, and Krista feels overwhelmed with this sudden urge to hug her, but she can’t move to do so. This is the most impossible thing that had ever happened to her, and yet here she is. She has so many questions that she has no idea where to begin.

“Are you ready to order?” Their waiter snaps them back to reality.

“Oh, er-” Krista fumbled with the menu, feeling her cheeks flush red.

“Do you want a starter?” Ymir asked her.

“Oh, I’ll be fine, thanks,” Krista said. It was Ymir’s treat, after all, and she didn’t want to spend her money.

“Then we’ll both take the cioppino _,_ please,” Ymir smiled up at the waiter to Krista’s surprise. “And a bottle of the house red.”

“How did you know I love cioppino?” Krista asked once he was gone. She was stunned.

Ymir grinned, thinking back to eating a seafood stew not unlike this dish in her old life with Krista in their barracks, before everything had gone to shit. She had always found comfort in relieving these memories, but knowing she couldn’t share them with Krista tainted them. They felt lonely now.

“I’m coming across like a stalker, but I know a lot about you, Historia.”

“You don’t seem to know my name.”

Ymir looked down at the tablecloth. “It’s not your real name. At least, not in our past life.”

“If I don’t remember, just tell me, then. I want answers; I’ve been living with this for years.”

Ymir pauses; thinks. She can’t bring herself to tell Krista what she did in their past life. She wants her to remember, so she doesn’t have to relieve the guilt right now. And she might not understand.

“I don’t want to tell you. You need to live it for yourself.”

“But-”

“I’ll help you to remember.”

Krista laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. She can hardly believe that she’s going along with this; that she’s even considering the possibility that a past life could be possible.

But she can’t deny that she’s intrigued.

“At least tell me the basics. When were we alive? Where? Is there anyone else?”

“I don’t know.”

“What? I thought you just said that you remembered everything.”

“I _do,_ but our life was so different to anything I’ve experienced here.”

Everything Ymir says makes Krista more and more dubious, but every time she feels as if she wants to get up and leave, she remembers the soaring of her heart when she had said Ymir’s name in the coffee shop with no way of knowing it, and then what had come after; how they had lay next to each other in the dark after they had made love. Krista had never experienced so much love in her life, and now here she is, sitting in front Ymir, and trying to understand the impossible. Krista listens to her try to explain, her memories floating back to how her mouth had spoken without her brain telling it to.

“Ymir,” Krista says again, and Ymir stops talking, a confused expression on her face.

“What is it?”

“You know I love cioppino.”

“I do, so…?”

“So tell me something else about me, if you know so much.”

“Like what?”

“Tell me my favourite colour. And I’ll trust you about this… past life.”

“You don’t have one.”

“How-” Krista started to say, but Ymir keeps going.

“I know you don’t like that question, too. You think what’s the point in only having one favourite colour, when you can enjoy the beauty of all of them? That’s what I like about you. You don’t limit yourself like that.”

Krista is stunned.

“My favourite colour is blue, by the way,” Ymir adds.

“Why?” Is the only thing Krista could say.

She shrugs. “Because it looks nice. No profound reason or anything.”

Krista laughs suddenly, accepting in this moment that she can’t just get up and leave Ymir now. There’s too much intrigue, too much excitement to let her walk away.

Not that Ymir would; not in a hundred years.   

When the waiter brings their meal to them, the atmosphere changes, becomes looser. Ymir is overcome with desire to find out more about the Krista sitting right in front of her, rather than obsessing over the one she’s always known.

“So,” she says, pausing to sip her wine, “tell me all about you. The you I don’t know. From the beginning.”

Krista takes a long time to think about her answer.

“Well…” she says eventually, “I’ve had a pretty boring life. There’s not much that’s interesting about me.”

“I bet there is. Come on. What are your family like?”

“Well, my parents aren’t my real parents. I’m adopted. Don’t know my real mum or dad. But I grew up pretty much just like everyone else in London. My dad’s quite religious and he’s strict about the whole ‘bisexual’ thing, but as long as I don’t mention it to him we get on fine.”

“You’re bi?” Ymir never knew Krista liked guys too. A familiar jealousy bubbles in her chest for the first time, and she pushes it down.

“Yeah,” Krista says. “What about you?”

“Gay as they come,” Ymir grins, and eats more of her cioppino. “Tell me more about you.”

“Well, I work in the coffee shop where we met, obviously, but I’m training to be a paediatric nurse. That takes up a lot of time, but it’s worth it. I’m nearly finished, too. Graduate next May.”

“That’s very selfless.”

Krista blushes slightly and can’t meet Ymir’s eyes. “I guess so, but anyway, tell me about you. Did you grow up in London?”

“I was born here. Apparently.”

“What do you mean _apparently_?”

“I think I was. I pretty much know nothing about my early life. So yeah, I don’t know my parents either. I lived all around the UK when I was a kid, and then when I was sixteen, I took off.”

“Took off? Where?”

“Anywhere away from the people I was living with.”

“What did they do?” Krista’s meal is beginning to go cold before she’s finished even half of it.

“They thought I was crazy,” Ymir says, pouring herself a second glass of wine. “To be fair to them, I thought I had been too, for a while, when I’d been on the medication long enough.”

“Medication? What medication?”

“They stuck me on Olanzapine for schizophrenia. I can see why they did it, but I still can’t stand them. It turned me into a zombie.”

“That’s awful,” Krista says.

Ymir’s mouth is full of food so she nods and waits until she finishes her mouthful before continuing.

“It was shit. As soon as I did my GCSEs I was gone. Haven’t seen them since.”

“That’s…” Krista can’t find the right word and the sentence dies in her mouth. “What did you do for all that time?”

“Anything and everything really. Went to America for a couple years, just came back a month or two ago. Mostly I was trying to find you. And just when I was on the verge of giving up, well,” she gestures to Krista, “here you are.”

Krista smiles at her, but feels a familiar anxiety curl itself up in her chest. To her anxiety is a bear, coming home to hibernate in the winter, lying dormant, and waiting.

“But what now? We’ve found each other. This seems like the end of a story, not the beginning of one.”

“What are you talking about?” Ymir leans closer to Krista, admiring how beautiful she is. She has waited for so long to see her again. “This is the beginning of us.”

“Us? As a couple?”

“Yeah.” As Ymir says this she realises that the never considered the possibility that Krista wouldn’t want to be with her.

“I mean…” Krista goes with her gut, pushing the anxiety out, thinking of the night before. “Why not? It’s an adventure.”

Ymir grins and leans back in her seat, ignoring the urge to kiss her right there and then. “You want dessert?”

“I’m good. Shall we just go back to my place?”

Ymir stands up, puts £30 on the table, tucks in her chair, looks at Krista.

“That sounds like a great idea to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still haven't decided where i'm going with this story; i'm just seeing where it takes me. if you'd like to see anything included, other characters etc., let me know and i'll most probably do it
> 
> -ostara 
> 
> xo


	4. armin and eren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krista’s lips are soft, and they kiss almost impatiently, wanting to press on. Ymir indulges her, kissing harder. She slips a hand under her shirt, and Krista lets out a small gasp at how cold it feels.
> 
> “Sorry,” Ymir breathes, a little embarrassed. She rests her forehead on Krista’s.
> 
> “It’s fine,” Krista smiles, “carry on.”
> 
> Ymir sits up, slightly dizzy and out of breath. “Shall we go to the bedroom?”
> 
> “No,” Krista sits up too, and pulls her shirt over her head. “Stay here with me. I like this.”

A month passes in a heartbeat.

If Krista’s life up until this point has been a slow tread uphill, then this past month has been a rollercoaster. She sees Ymir every day. They act like a normal couple, they do normal couple things. They go to the cinema, and kiss through the entire film; they get cheap coffee late at night from 24-hour diners; they order takeaway and eat it on the sofa, chatting like old friends about anything and everything. When Krista has to study, Ymir (reluctantly) leaves her to it, but more often than not, she’ll whine for Krista to come and do something else, or even just sit beside her and play with her hair.

They can’t keep their hands off each other; Krista has a sex drive like none she’s experienced before. She pulls Ymr aside at all times of the day, leading her to the bedroom, the sofa, the shower; sometimes even the kitchen. She daydreams of it during her nursing classes, through her morning shifts at the coffee shop. Ymir is practically living in Krista’s flat, or at least, she does for the night, and during the day, she’s gone. Krista doesn’t know where she’s going while she’s busy, but she doesn’t even think to ask. There are other things to be doing.

There’s a spring in Krista’s step. Her co-workers and friends from school notice it, and Krista tells them all about the new girlfriend whose sprung into her life from nowhere. They’re happy, but even more than that, they’re relieved - Krista’s never been able to make it hard to see through her faked smile, no matter how hard she had tried to do so. But now she’s radiant, exuding a happiness others could only dream of living.

* * *

On Wednesday afternoons, Krista has time off from work and school, and naturally, this means she sees Ymir. It’s cold in Regent’s Park. The biting London air pierces her skin, and Krista rubs her sleeves with her bare hands, wishing she has a cup of coffee and her gloves to warm her up. There’s still five minutes before Ymir is due to arrive. It’s an awkward amount of time; unbearable to sit still for, but not long enough to go and grab a hot drink. Krista checks her phone again and tries to warm herself up by pulling her scarf around her neck a little tighter but to no avail.

Less than a minute later Krista feels someone’s arms around her, and she jumps, letting out a strange yelp. The arms let go and Krista spins around; obviously, it’s Ymir.

“What kind of noise was that,” Ymir laughs, trying to mimic the sound Krista had made and failing miserably.

Krista laughs too and punches her lightly. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Ymir leans down to kiss Krista on the cheek and then takes her hand.

“You’ll have to let me make it up to you then,” she says, as they begin to walk. “Coffee?”

“You read my mind.”

The coffee stall is the same kind of re-purposed, light blue van you could find in any London park, with a chalkboard menu and cups made from recycled cardboard. The vendor is a bored-looking girl with red hair and bags under her eyes, and she sells them two cups of mediocre coffee for £6.80. Ymir scoffs at the price, but with a spoon of sugar the coffee tastes fine, and besides, it warms them up enough so that they stop shivering.

“Was there anything in particular that you wanted to do today?” Krista asks as they follow the main path.

Ymir looks around at all of the couples passing by them, remembering how she used to walk through this park alone, spiteful at their happiness. She smiles.

“No, nothing really.” She lets go of Krista’s hand for a second to pull off one of her gloves, feeling her bare skin against Krista’s. “Just being around you is fine with me.”

Krista feels her cold cheeks flush hot as she blushes. Even though Ymir is always this flirtatious, it gets her every time. She looks at her. Her ears are bright red, and the cold weather makes her look less tanned, bringing out her freckles.

“You’re so much cuter than you let on, Ymir,” Krista grins.

Ymir scoffs again. “I’m anything but cute.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say so. I mean, look at your cute red little ears…”

Ymir laughs, takes a sip of her coffee, and kisses Krista right on the mouth without warning, leaving Krista stunned for a second. She laughs.

“It’s impossible to be any cuter than you. I mean, I’ve never seen somebody so adorable when they’re flustered.”

This only makes Krista blush more, and she just smiles, pulls Ymir closer, leans her head on her arm as they walk.

They’ve barely made it halfway down the park when an incredibly lively border collie sprints straight at Krista, almost knocking her flat over.

“Willow!” Shouts a voice as the collie tries to lick Krista anywhere it can. Krista’s heart begins to beat faster, and she looks at Ymir, who has the same concerned look on her face.

She recognises that voice.

“Ymir…” Krista puts her hand on Ymir’s shoulder.

Two boys - one short, blonde, and skinny; the other tall and brunette, run around a corner and down the path towards them, chasing what is obviously their lost dog. When Krista sees them, her entire body freezes up.

Recognising them as well, the two boys slow to a stop, their expressions turning from determination to shock in an instant.

“Fucking hell,” Ymir says.

“It’s Armin,” Krista murmurs. “And Eren.”

The last thing she feels before she faints are her legs buckling under her, and then, she’s in a dream.

* * *

 

_Chatter fills the air. There’s a warm atmosphere; the room is filled with excitement. There are people all around her. Krista is sitting in front of a bowl of soup and a bread roll, and beside her are two boys, eagerly discussing what the next day might hold._

_One of them turns to her. Krista recognises him as the fierce boy set on joining the Survey Corps._

_“What do you want to do once we finish training?” He asks her, his bright green eyes staring at her intently. They’re almost scarily determined._

_“Me?” Krista asks. “Well, I suppose… the Garrison. I heard you want to join the Survey Corps.”_

_“Yeah,” he says, and gestures to his friend. “We both do. I’m Eren, by the way.”_

_“And I’m Armin. You’re Krista Lenz, right?”_

_“I am,” Krista says. “It’s nice to meet you.”_

_“You, too,” Armin says._

_They eat in silence for a while. Krista turns to look out of the window and sees the girl called Sasha, still running around the field, being shouted at by their instructor._

_“That Mr Shardis is terrifying,” Krista says, feeling sorry for Sasha._

_“How long do you think he’s going to make her run like that?” Armin asks._

_“I have no idea, but she must be starving,” says Eren._

_Krista looks down at her meal; she has a bread roll and a few spoonfuls of soup left. She’s still hungry, but looking outside at Sasha makes her feel guilty for being able to eat when she can’t._

_She slips the bread into her pocket._

_“Are you giving that to her?” Armin asks. “You could probably get in trouble for that.”_

_Krista blushes, embarrassed that she’s been caught.  “Well, she must be hungry-”_

_“You’re not going to get very far if you start giving your food away to other people,” Eren says, looking at Krista with disdain._

_“She’ll need it more than me,” Krista says, and turns back to her soup. By the time she’s finished, Eren has started talking to someone else._

_“What’s the point in even coming here if you want to live an easy life?” He snaps at a boy Krista recognises as Jean._

_“What kind of nutjob would want to have anything_ but _an easy life?” Jean retorts. “What are you, suicidal?”_

_“You could be saving humanity, and you’d rather sit around on your arse all day doing nothing?”_

_Eren looks furious. Krista notices his hotheadedness and makes a mental note to avoid angering him, not that she could ever imagine doing so anyway._

_When things seem an inch from breaking out into a fight, the bell suddenly rings._

_Hours slip by and soon Krista is sneaking out of her dorm to give the bread to Sasha. She watches for a minute or two as Sasha finishes her last lap and collapses onto the gravel outside of the food hall, then she approaches, holding out the bread and a water pouch as an offering._

_Sasha practically pounces on her._

_“You’re a goddess,” she wails, her mouth full of bread, “thank you!”_

_She’s barely swallowed the bread before she passes out._

_Krista hears the sound of footsteps; there’s someone behind her. She turns, and there’s a girl standing there. She’s tall, and pretty. Her face is covered in freckles._

And then her dream ends, and Krista sleeps.

* * *

 

“Is she alright?” Eren asks. Krista’s mumbling in her sleep.

Armin had driven them back to Ymir’s apartment after they realised they couldn’t wake her up. They have put her on the sofa, her feet laid on the armrest, one of her hands dangling off the edge, her fingers skimming the floor. Ymir is silently panicking, worrying that Krista won’t wake up at all; but she thinks of how long she’d slept after their first night together.

“She slept for a really long time after I saw her, too.”

There are a million questions Ymir wants to ask Armin and Eren but she’s afraid Krista will wake up while they’re answering them.

Armin is sitting on a dining room chair he’d pulled over, his head in his hands.

“Have you found anyone else?” Eren asks.

“No. Only Historia,” Ymir says, looking over at her. She’s pale and sweating slightly, and her expression looks uncomfortable. “And she doesn’t remember anything.”

“Wait, what?” Armin looks up, shocked. “Nothing at all?”

Ymir thinks. “She can recognise people, but that’s it. It’s probably really confusing for her.”

“How long has it been?”

“‘Bout a month?”

“What?” Eren interrupts. “Is that it?”

“Yeah… when did you two…?”

“We grew up together,” Armin says.

“Oh,” she says, feeling a pang of jealousy in her gut. What she would have given to spend her whole childhood with Krista…

“Sasha…” Krista murmurs. The three of them look at each other concernedly.

“Well. I don’t want you two here when she wakes up,” Ymir says. She wants them out. There are too many things clogging up her mind.

_What happened after I…?_

“That’s fine, but let’s meet again at some point.” Armin scribbles his number on a piece of paper ripped from his notebook.

“Sure.” Ymir takes it and puts it into her phone, blinking hard to bring her back to present. “There’s a lot I need to ask you.”

“Us, too.”

“Seriously, call as soon as possible,” Eren says and starts walking to the door.

“I will. Bye, guys.”

“See you soon.”

They leave, and Ymir sits on the floor beside Krista, taking her hand and tracing patterns on her palm. For so long she had wished she could just sit like this and simply _be_ with Krista. SO why doesn’t she feel content?

Ymir pushes the thoughts from her mind as Krista begins to stir.

“Hey,” she says softly.

Krista’s eyes are half open; she smiles. “Ymir.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?” Her voice is groggy.

“Can you remember?”

“Some… things….”

“Like what?”

Krista pushes herself up with her elbows, rubs her eyes. “Eren… and Armin, they were here. And I had a dream, they were there, it was night time, Eren was having a fight….”

Ymir is shocked that she remembers anything, and a little hurt, too. Why did she remember them and not her?

“Anything else?”

“No, that’s it.” Krista yawns. “What time is it?”

“Five p.m.”

“Oh,” she sighs. “I thought it was later. Come here.”

Krista kisses her. The knot in Ymir’s chest begins unravelling, calming her, and she kisses back, feeling her heart beat faster and her face become hot. She’s in an uncomfortable position, kneeling on the floor, while Krista is leaning down to her from the sofa. She stands up, breaking the kiss, and brushes off her knees before getting on the sofa, gently pushing Krista back by her shoulders so she’s lying there underneath her. Ymir takes a moment to breathe. She looks at Krista.

Her hair is messy, a bit tangled from moving about so much in her sleep. Her mascara is smudged slightly, her pupils are dilated, and her cheeks are bright pink. Her chest rises and falls quickly with her shallow breathing. Ymir’s chest tightens again. She loves Krista so much she feels as if she can’t get it all out,  can’t express it. She’s so relieved, so grateful that she gets to experience being intimate with Krista, getting to touch her body when she thought she never would again. Ymir takes another deep breath, closes her eyes, and leans down to kiss her, more deeply than before.

Krista’s lips are soft, and they kiss almost impatiently, wanting to press on. Ymir indulges her, kissing harder. She slips a hand under her shirt, and Krista lets out a small gasp at how cold it feels.

“Sorry,” Ymir breathes, a little embarrassed. She rests her forehead on Krista’s.

“It’s fine,” Krista smiles, “carry on.”

Ymir sits up, slightly dizzy and out of breath. “Shall we go to the bedroom?”

“No,” Krista sits up too, and pulls her shirt off over her head. “Stay here with me. I like this.”

Ymir stares at her, how she’s just there in her bra, goosebumps all over her. Every time Ymir sees her like this it feels like she's seeing her for the first time.

“You’re not too cold?”

Krista lies back down. “I won’t be if you come and warm me up.”

Ymir adjusts herself, tucks her hair behind her ears, and leans over Krista, kissing her neck while feeling the smooth skin of her waist with her hand.

“I’d best hurry then,” she whispers and moves to kiss Krista again, feeling the warmth of her skin on her lips. She kisses her neck, her chest, feeling Krista’s back arch with pleasure.

And it’s bliss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> massive thank you to @DaniJayNel for helping me with this chapter!!


	5. second guessing

 

Ymir stares into her mug of coffee as she stirs it. It’s mid-afternoon, and in the winter sky, the sun is already beginning to set. Armin and Eren sit in front of her. The conversations of everyone around them melt into one sound, a low hum in the background. They are silent; Ymir doesn’t know where to start. The air is uncomfortable. 

“Do you want to know what happened to her?” Armin says eventually. 

Ymir’s chest tightens up instantly, even though she knew the question was coming.  _ Yes,  _ she wants to say, but she can’t get it out. She wants to know so badly that her whole chest burns and her hands begin to shake. But she can’t.

“No,” she says. The word tastes bad in her mouth. “It’s not my right to know.”

Eren just looks at her. She stares at her lap. 

“Why?” Armin asks. “I know. I could tell you right now. She wouldn’t even know.”

“I…”

“You want her to remember, right?” Eren says finally. “You want to hear it from her. I get it. That’s how I’d feel, too, if Mikasa didn’t remember.”

Ymir looks up at him. He looks like the same old Eren to her, but he isn’t the Eren she remembers. 

“You’re a lot different now, huh?” She says to him. 

Eren and Armin exchange a glance. 

“I’ve changed a lot, yeah.”

_ This is your last chance to find out, now,  _ Ymir thinks.  _ What if she never remembers? Can you live with never knowing what happened to her after you left? _

“You don’t look sure,” Armin says, looking at her over the rim of his glasses. 

“No, I’m sure.” Ymir stands up. “Right. I’m off.”

“Wait, what? You just got here, though,” Eren says, as Ymir begins to walk away. “Don’t you want to know anything?”

“Not even what happened when you died?”

Armin’s voice stops Ymir for a moment. She pauses, her back turned to them, and thinks about what would happen if she’d just turn and sit with them, let them tell her everything. Everything about Krista’s life after her. If she ever loved again, if she found peace with someone that wasn’t her. When she died, and how. Was it painless? Was she an old woman, passed away in her sleep? Or could she have even died not long after Ymir had?  Or even… before?

Ymir clenches her fists. “No, I don’t want to know. I’m leaving.”

“Wait!” Eren says quickly. “Sit back down a second.” 

“Why?” Ymir says but doesn’t leave. 

“Because we need your help.”

“With…?”

“Sit back down and we’ll tell you.” 

Ymir obliges them, sighing pointedly. “What?”

“We want to find Mikasa,” Eren says. 

“What does that have to do with me? I don’t care.”

“Historia - Krista, whatever - she was talking about us in her sleep, right?” Eren says. 

“So?”

“And she remembered our names. She knew us.”

“So the more of us there are, the more she will remember. Being surrounded by all of us… it’s bound to bring back some kind of memory, right?” Armin looks at her, knowing he’s right. 

Ymir sighs again. “We all found each other by chance. Pure luck. How do you expect us to find her?”

“Well, we don’t know. We’ve been searching online but we have nothing.” Eren admits. 

“Wow, you’re filling me with confidence.”

“But I was thinking,” Armin says. “Me, you, Krista and Eren, all in the same city? It’s a pretty strange coincidence.”

“What, you think there’s some kind of meaning to this? Don’t be stupid.”

“What Armin’s saying makes sense, Ymir. Think about it.”

Ymir closes her eyes. Her head is throbbing with pain, and there’s a ringing in her ears. Is it worth the hassle? To have a chance at Krista remembering her?

“Fine. But I really am leaving now. Call me when you have some kind of clue as to how you’ll find her.”

With that, Ymir stands up and leaves the cafe, not turning back.

She doesn’t go home; she just walks, thinking. The streetlights turn on one by one, and the sun falls below the horizon, but she barely notices; all she can think about is what she said with Eren and Armin. The cold pierces her through her coat. She wishes she was holding Krista’s hand to distract her from how numb her fingers were becoming, but her fists are stuffed into her pockets, their only company some loose change and an old receipt. 

Ymir walks until her legs hurt. 

“I’ve found Krista. So why do I feel like this?” She mutters to herself.

A sly, snakelike voice in her head replies. 

_ Deep down, you don’t want her to remember, do you?  _

“Yes, I do. I’m trying to help her get her memories back.”

_ You’re only doing that so you don’t have to feel guilty. You know how she’s going to react when she finds out what you did. _

“No…” Ymir says weakly, her eyes filling with tears. “I wrote her the letter. She’ll understand.”

_ How do you know that? Krista might have understood. But once she remembers her old life, she’ll become Historia once again. And you don’t know Historia at all.  _

Ymir feels as if she’s going to vomit all over the pavement. The people around her are staring, wondering why this strange woman is talking to herself.

“You don’t know how she’ll react.”

_ And you do? _

“Shut up,” Ymir begins to cry, the tears falling freely down her cheeks. “Shut up.”

The voice doesn’t say anything more, but it doesn’t need to. Ymir sinks to her knees on the pavement, believing that what the voice had said was true, that Krista will really hate her when she finds out what she did. 

* * *

“Where have you  _ been _ ?” Krista resists the urge to slap Ymir when she finally returns to the flat. “I’ve called you a thousand times- wait, what’s wrong?”

Ymir doesn’t say a word. She just walks straight past Krista and sits down on the sofa. 

“ _ Ymir.”  _

Ymir sighs and buries her face in her hands, trying to resist the urge to start sobbing again. 

“Ymir,” Krista says again, softer this time. “Tell me what’s happened.”

“Will you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“When… when your memories come back. Will you hear me out, and listen to what I have to say?”

Krista’s face softens and she places her hand on Ymir’s shoulder. She bends down to be next to her, pushing her own worry aside. 

“Of course I will.”

Ymir looks up at her. “Promise me, Krista.”

“I promise.” 

Krista hopes this isn’t a promise she will regret making.


	6. leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ymir, will you please just explain-”
> 
> “I can’t, Krista.”
> 
> “What do you mean you can’t?”
> 
> “I can’t tell you. It’s not fair on you to find out from me.”
> 
> “Find out what? Will you please just stop being so fucking cryptic-”
> 
> Ymir stands up abruptly, her eyes searching for her coat.
> 
> “I’m sorry.”
> 
> “For what?”
> 
> "I have to leave."

 

When they wake up the next morning, Ymir acts as if everything is normal. She can’t bear to talk about it again, so she slides out of bed before Krista wakes up, puts on the kettle, and makes a cooked breakfast for them both. As the water starts to boil, she checks her phone. A long sigh escapes her when she sees the name flash up on the screen.

**Armin:** _ I have an idea. Will you come over to our place today?  _

Ymir doesn’t hear the kettle’s swtich flip as the water boils; she just stares at her thumbs hovering over the phone’s keyboard. 

**Ymir:** _ What is it?  I have stuff to do today.  _

**Armin:** _ No you don’t. You don’t have a job. _

**Ymir:** _ Fine. When? _

**Armin:** _ Whenever. We’re waiting.  _

His address is at the bottom of the message. Ymir holds her head in her hands and switches the kettle back on, putting an extra sugar in her tea. 

Krista is sleepily rubbing her eyes when Ymir comes in with the tray of food. She beams. 

“Ahh, this is exactly what I need right now!” 

Just seeing Krista’s happy face is enough to ease her nerves a little. “You’re welcome.”

They eat together in silence for a while, both them pretending not to think about last night. 

“You have school today, right?” 

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I’m starting my placement next week, so I’ll be working at the hospital full time for a month.”

“Long hours?”

“Too long.”

“That’s rough. But it’s your dream, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? Is it not what you want?”

“It is,” Krista said, plastering on a smile. “I’ve got to get a shower now anyway. Thanks for breakfast.”

Ymir sits, feeling empty for a while, listening to the sound of the shower. She texts Armin. 

**Ymir:** _ On my way.  _

* * *

Eren and Armin’s flat is small, and absolutely filled with stuff. It’s an organised mess; Ymir is sure that Armin knows exactly where everything is, but if he asked her to find something, she would have no idea where to start. There are books everywhere; all kinds of them, mostly nonfiction. Ymir resists the urge to make a comment about the place looking like a serial killer’s lair.

“So, what’s this idea?” She asks as Eren sets three cups of tea down on the table. 

“We’re going to make a website,” Eren says.

“That’s stupid.”

Eren’s face flushes red with indignance. “How?”

“What would it even be? ‘ _ Oh, hey, do you have the memories of an entire life stored in your head? Get in touch!’ _ ? That’s ridiculous.”

Armin laughs. “Don’t think about it so literally.”

“How else am I supposed to think about it?”

“Listen. Are you going to tell me that you didn’t Google what was happening to you? Why you could remember an entire past life?” 

Memories of her adopted family discovering her search history before taking her to see a psychologist flash through Ymir’s mind. 

“Yeah, I did,” she admits, “but all I got was a bunch of spiritual bullshit.” 

“Exactly. We’re not going to do that.”

Ymir narrows her eyes at Armin. “I don’t follow.”

“We’re going to build a website that looks like it’s the real deal, that explains what all of this past life stuff means.”

“Obviously it won't be real,” Eren says, “because we don’t have any clue why this has happened to us.”

“But,” Armin continues, “the website will have pictures of us. Contact details.”

“Okay… but what’s to stop any random idiot from finding the site?”

“We thought of that as well.” Armin leans over the table, passing her a sheet of paper. “It’s going to have specific search criteria. You’ll have to really dig for it to find it.”

Ymir glances at the paper.  _ Mikasa Ackerman  _ was at the top of the list, followed by  _ Ymir, Historia Reiss, Armin Arlert, Levi Ackerman, Eren Jaeger,  _ and names of all the other people she had known.  _ Shiganshina, past life, a _ nd  _ memories of past life  _ were on the list, along with other names and places she recognised. 

“The idea is that you’ll have to combine a few of these phrases to find the site. Hopefully, that will limit the number of people that find us and get in contact. That will make it easier for us to find the others, if they’re out there.”

Ymir continues to stare at the list. She couldn’t deny how many times she had Googled some of these phrases. 

“And you think this will work? You think it will help you find Mikasa?”

“It’s the best idea we’ve got,” Eren says to her. “So, what do you think? Will you help?”

Ymir sighs. “Okay. Fine. But only for Historia’s sake.”

“Thank you, Ymir,” Eren says. “Anyway, I’m off out now, I’ve got a lecture. See you guys later.” 

Eren leaves, and there’s a strange tension between the two of them.

“Do you call her Historia to her face?” Armin asks after a brief silence. 

“No.”

“Why?”

“She’s lived her whole life as Krista. I’m not going to force her to go by something else.”

“That’s fair enough.” Armin pauses, as if he’s pondering whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. “Why do you want her to get her memories back? Wouldn’t it be easier for you if she didn’t know what you did?”

The knot in Ymir’s stomach tightens suddenly. “Because… because that’s not fair on her. And I’d like to think that she understood. I can’t just live my whole life with her living a lie like that.”

Armin shrugs and takes the paper back from Ymir. He is a lot different to the Armin she remembers, much like Eren. 

“Who else do you want to find, then, other than Mikasa?” Ymir asks, trying to change the subject. 

“I don’t know really,” Armin says, but she can tell he’s not being totally truthful. She doesn’t want to push it. 

“Alright. So. What happens now? What do you need my help with?”

“Well, I’m going to start building the website. It shouldn’t take me all that long. What I need from you is help writing the text, and for you to give us pictures of you and Krista to use. We’ll give you access to the email, so you can start going through the responses we get, if any, once it’s set up properly.”

“Okay. I can do that.” Ymir stands up. “Is that all you need me for?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Armin says. “I’ll let you know when I need those photos.”

“Great.”

* * *

 

Krista is tired. Not missing-a-few-hours-of-sleep-tired - she’s physically and mentally exhausted. The adrenaline rush of her first month with Ymir has worn off, and left her drained. Ymir is a rollercoaster that goes up and up, leaving you anxiously awaiting when it’ll all come crashing down. Before she met Eren and Armin, there was always the possibility that none of this was real, that Ymir was playing her. Now that those two are part of the picture, everything has become a thousand times more complicated. 

“Krista!” A sharp pain in her rib. “Class is over, are you coming or not?”

Her friend Emily looks at her like she’s gone mad.

“Sorry! Must have zoned out for a second.” Krista grabs her bag and follows Emily out of the seminar room, trailing behind. 

“You’re being really weird today, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine, I’m just really tired at the moment,” she smiles, feeling her face contort into it’s old ‘ _ I’m fine, why?’  _ expression

“Exams, right? Fucking nightmare, plus, Aiden is being  _ such  _ a prick at the moment…” Emily went straight into a speech about the problems between her and her boyfriend, and Krista tuned her out, her mind immediately going back to think about strange behaviour. She’s frustrated - all she wants to do is remember, but as always, the memories are just out of her grasp.  

Ymir isn’t in when she gets home, but Krista hadn’t expected her to be. She runs a bath, adds one of the bath bombs that she usually saves for special occasions, and gets in, letting her body sink under the hot water. The day’s events all blur into one when she tries to recall them, but she soon gives up, letting her brain relax for once, and before long, she’s asleep.

* * *

 

_ She’s lying in a comfortable bed, staring up at a ceiling which is all too familiar to her. She doesn’t know how many times she’s laid here like this.  _

_ There is a gaping hole in her chest. _

_ It’s not a real hole, but it feels much more painful than that. There’s nothing physically wrong with her, she’s told, time and time again. So every day she gets up and lives, but by the time the sun has set, she’s lying here again. Behind the canopy of her four poster bed lies a letter she’s read time and time again. It has somehow made less sense every time she’s tried to understand its meaning. The words she once thought she knew felt meaningless. There are large parts which are unreadable, where her tears have blotted the ink. Not that that matters - she has memorised it, knows every word. Throughout the night it repeats itself in her head, the last words from Ymir that she would ever hear. It’s as if her brain is branded with them.  _

_ It’s bittersweet to her, though the bitterness is far more overwhelming.  _

* * *

Ymir is shaking her. Why? Is it morning already? As her vision blurs into focus she realises she’s still in the bath. The water is freezing cold and she’s shivering. There’s panic in Ymir’s eyes.

“Krista! Krista, are you okay?”

“Fuck.” Krista sits up. “I must have fallen asleep, I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ, were you having a nightmare? You were wailing in there.”

Krista tried to think back to what happened in her dream but everything was blank. She had no idea that she had even dreamt about anything at all. 

“I… I don’t remember,” she says, holding her head in her hands. 

_ Try to,  _ Ymir wants to say, but she knows that would be of no use. Instead, she picks up Krista’s soaking wet, shivering body and wraps her up in a towel. 

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah,” Krista says. Her teeth are chattering. Ymir holds her a little closer and carries her through to the bedroom.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” she says, closing the door behind her as she leaves Krista sat on the bed. 

Ymir makes herself a drink while she waits for Krista to return. She sits at the table, her hands wrapped around the cup of coffee, staring at the steam as it rises upwards. What had Krista been dreaming about? Ymir wishes fiercely to know what it was. Was it something to do with her? Were the choices she made in her last life still affecting Krista in this existence? The snake-like voice of doubt returns. 

Her knuckles turn white. Why won’t she just remember? What is it about her that’s different from the rest of them? Anger stirs in the pit of her stomach. Why can’t they just be normal? Why does everything she touches become shit? Tears prick at her eyes and she wipes them away furiously. She wants to throw her cup across the room, smashing it into pieces, and staining the perfect white paint with black coffee. She wants to scream, to punch the wall, to break everything she touches.

But she doesn’t. 

Ymir just sits there, her knees brought up close to her chest, staring blankly. She doesn’t look up when the door softly opens. 

“Ymir,” Krista says, her voice quiet.

Ymir shakily brings the cup up to her lips and drinks.

“ _ Ymir.” _

She looks up. Krista is standing there in the doorway. Her eyebrows are downturned and her lips pout into a frown. The circles under her eyes look darker in contrast to her pale, almost sallow. Krista’s long blonde hair is wet and unbrushed, dripping a little onto the linoleum floor, but she takes no notice of it. She wears a pair of loose shorts and one of Ymir’s t-shirts. Ymir is reminded of how small Krista’s boyish frame is and she feels the knot in her chest tighten a little. 

“What are you hiding from me?” She says softly. Ymir’s heart pounds in her chest. She had done this to Krista - she had made her like this, made her become this pale, lifeless version of herself. 

The selfish part of her says to stay, that this is what she has been waiting for her whole life. 

“But I’m tired of being selfish,” she says softly, looking back at her drink again. 

“What are you talking about?”

“This… this isn’t fair on you.”

“Ymir, will you please just explain-”

Reiner’s face flashes through Ymir’s mind. Maybe Reiner could help her…

“ _ Please.” _

“I can’t, Krista.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s not fair on you to find out from me.”

“Find out  _ what?  _ Will you please just stop being so fucking cryptic-”

Ymir stands up abruptly, her eyes searching for her coat. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I… I did something to you in our past life. Something I can’t forgive myself for.”

“What did you do?”

“I want you to remember. It’s not fair coming from me, you know I put a spin on everything-”

“I  _ can’t  _ remember, Ymir! So will you just tell me - imagine how I feel, I’m living in the dark here, not knowing a thing while the rest of you know it all!”

Ymir is in the hallway now, pulling on her shoes. Leaving is easier than living with this guilt. The feeling of needing to run outweighs any other emotion. “I’m sorry.”

“Where are you going? I’m not finished talking to you.”

“I’m going to find someone.” Ymir stands up and takes Krista’s cold cheeks in her hands. Krista shoves Ymir away, rejecting her touch. 

“No you stay here, and tell me what’s going - Ymir!” 

The door slams shut as Ymir leaves, and then all there is is silence. 


	7. germany

_ Her hands are bound in chains reaching to the ceiling. The metal cuts into her wrists. She’s in a large cave, on top of a stone pillar. A man stands in front of her, clutching a syringe in his hand.  _

_ Her breathing is calm. Her heart beats slowly, too heavy, too broken, to pound with its usual ferocity. Ymir tries to focus on keeping her bare feet from scuffing on the ground as they lead her to her fate.  _

_ She had considered herself to be the kind of person who lived with no regrets. She thought that being selfish was the only way to be happy. Her stubborn heart knew that was wrong. Now, she thinks about how if it hadn’t been for this selfish desire to repay her lost debts, she could still be with Historia.  _

_ Historia. _

_ The name is sweet, refreshing; it’s new. Even in these circumstances, she feels her heart swell with pride that her Historia had become true to herself. Historia. The name suits her so much better. There’s a black stain on her hand from the ink she had spilled while writing her final goodbye.  _

_ “Historia…” she mutters, as the man pierces his skin with the needle. “I wish I could have gotten to know her.” _

_ She hears the shift. Ymir finally looks up, catching for a brief moment a glimpse of the titan’s hungry eyes as it reaches down to grab her. _

_ She takes a deep breath and tries not to scream when the titan’s huge hand grips her and raises her off the ground. _

_ It’s ironic, she thinks to herself. After a life of trying to live without regrets, regret is the last thing she ever feels. _

*****

When Ymir wakes up she angrily wipes away her tears and rolls onto her side. 

“Again,” she mutters. “That fucking dream, again.”

She’s nearly been gone for a month. Every night that dream plagues her, forcing her to relive the moment of her death again, and again, and again. 

Ymir pulls the blanket around her more tightly and flips on the light at the bedside table. The cheap hotel rooms flickers into view. She stares at the yellowed telephone cord hanging limply from the wall, and the patch of damp which has claimed the far right corner of the ceiling, and the painting, faded from the sun, which hangs lopsidedly on the wall above the TV. 

_ Fuck this,  _ she thinks, as she drags herself out of bed. She gets dressed and trudges downstairs for breakfast, managing only a single slice of toast before her stomach convulses and she feels as if she’s going to vomit. Back in her room Ymir pulls out her laptop and sits down on the bed. The hotel wifi is frustratingly slow but eventually the website loads.

A message notification flashes on the screen. 

**Armin:** Any luck?

**Ymir:** Take a guess. 

**Armin:** Hmm. Nothing on my end either.

**Ymir:** How is she?

**Armin:** I thought you said you didn’t want to know. 

**Ymir:** Ugh. You’re right. Have you had any hits on the site?

**Armin:** A few. But nobody has gotten in touch. 

**Ymir:** Bummer.

**Armin:** Why don’t you just come back? It’s pretty improbable that you’ll find any of them.

Ymir sips the coffee she had brought back to her room and thinks.

**Ymir:** Maybe I should.

**Armin:** Really?

**Ymir:** Fucking hell, I really don’t know. I’m just like. I’m sitting here in this shitty room with barely any money and it’s like… If I just got out of my own head then maybe I could go back and work things out with Historia and everything could just be normal

**Armin:** Do you really think you could do that?

**Ymir:** Uggggghhhhhhh. No

**Armin:** Then carry on. 

**Ymir:** Yeah. I know. So are you doing alright?

**Armin:** Yeah yeah I’m fine. Dealing with Eren’s excitement has been pretty draining, but it’s all good.

**Ymir:** I bet he’s like a fucking kid. 

**Armin:** Yep. 

**Ymir:** Lmao

**Armin:** So what’s your plan?

**Ymir:** Just going city to city I guess 

**Armin:** Where even are you?

**Ymir:** Near Berlin. 

**Armin:** I’ll be shocked if you find him you know. Or any of them.

**Ymir:** Me too

**Armin:** Good luck anyway. 

**Ymir:** Thanks. Gonna need it. Anyway. I’d better go

**Armin:** Yeah, hope you find them. 

**Ymir:** See you

**Armin:** Bye

Ymir sighs again and sips her cold coffee. She goes to the website they had set up, waiting a full five minutes for the page to load and fighting the urge to throw her laptop across the room. 

Krista’s face stares back at her, smiling. It was a picture she had taken of the both of them. Ymir rarely takes photos of herself, but on this occasion Krista had begged her, and she had given in. They were in the park where they’d met Eren and Armin for the first time. Krista was wrapped up in a scarf, grinning, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold. The two of them look genuinely happy, and looking at it sends a jolt of pain through her gut. She closes the page and takes a deep breath.  _ This is better for her,  _ she says to herself as she leaves the hotel and out into the streets of Germany. 

****

The scene in the coffee shop is bustling and bright. People fill the tables. There’s a couple quietly arguing, trying not to draw attention to themselves; a group of six teenage girls squeezed onto the sofas, chatting about school and boys; a baby crying loudly. Krista can’t hear any of it. She’s in a daze - she feels like she’s underwater, or that the air is thick, and everything is  _ slow.  _ Nothing makes sense, and she’s dizzy all the time. It’s almost like she’s drunk, stumbling about and unable to focus. She spills coffee, apologizing blankly for her mistake. 

“What’s going on with you?” Her boss asks her at the end of her shift, as she’s folding up her apron and staring with glazed eyes at the wall.

“Nothing,” she says without really hearing herself. 

*****

In her bed that night, she curls up alone, thinking about Ymir, with the same feeling of deja vu she has every time she tries to sleep. Krista scrolls down her phone lifelessly, staring at the tens of missed calls to Ymir. Her eyes sting, but she doesn’t have any tears left to give. Sleep never comes easily, even though Krista is always so tired. The prospect of it taunts her and stands just out of reach. 

Her exams loom on the horizon, too, and she knows she’s not ready - but she doesn’t care. Sitting in front of a book makes her want to vomit. Holding a pen in her hand makes her want to vomit. Anything that isn’t lying in bed and staring at the ceiling makes her want to vomit. 

Krista knew she was depressed before, but this takes the cake. 

_ Will she ever come back? Why the fuck did she even leave in the first place? _

She lets out a long and shaky sigh.

_ I wonder what she’s doing now. _

* * *

Ymir knocks back another shot of Jaegermeister and grimaces. The alcohol burns her throat, evoking memories of sitting in the park drinking anything she could get her 15-year-old hands on. The bar is rowdy and filled with people, and Ymir lets their conversations drown out the intrusive thoughts in her head. A cute blonde is serving at the bar. Ymir can’t look at her. As she continues to drink her vision becomes hazier. She stares up at the ceiling. The loud music blasting from the jukebox is a faint hum. She orders drink after drink, not caring about the hangover she’s going to have in the morning.

"Ist alles in Ordnung?” A girl sits down on the barstool beside her. Ymir stares blankly, half due to the girl’s striking beauty, and half due to the fact she was speaking German. 

“Uh…” Is all she manages to say. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you American?”

“Um, no, I’m English.”

“Awesome,” she smiles. Ymir just stares at her. She’s got long, bright auburn hair in tight curls. Her skin is flawless and even in the low light Ymir can tell her eyes are a pretty blue. 

“Anyway,” she continues, her German accent strong. “You look completely miserable. What’s up?”

“What isn’t?” Ymir laughs, and lets out a groan. “It’s a long story.”

“I have all night,” the girl says. “I’m Maria by the way. What’s your name?”

“Ymir.”

The colour drains from Maria’s fair skin. 

“Ymir what?”

“What?” 

“Your last name. What is it?”

“Fritz.”

“Oh my god,” Maria says, and immediately pulls out her phone.

“What?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but do you know Jean Kirstein?”

 


	8. jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t run away from your problems,” Jean says, putting a hand on her knee.
> 
> Ymir nods.
> 
> “I’m going to go back home. But I think I want to do something first.”

“I didn’t think I’d see  _ you  _ again,” Jean says with a smile, leaning back in a chair in his apartment. It’s strange for Ymir to hear him speak with a German accent. 

“Neither did I,” Ymir replies, almost in shock. All this time she had been travelling she never expected to find anyone, not really. And now Jean is sitting right in front of her. Maria had left a few minutes ago, right after she’d re-introduced them. She was Jean’s best friend, as she had explained on the way over in the taxi. The ride had sobered Ymir up, and she listened with intent as Maria talked. Maria had never been sure if Jean or the others were crazy, but she had gone along with it all. 

Ymir looks over at Jean. It felt so odd to see him again, in such different circumstances.

“Have you found anyone else?” They ask at the same time. They laugh. 

“Go on,” Ymir says.

“There’s a pretty large group of us here-”

“Who?”

“Tomas, Marco, Hitch, Mina…”

“Wow,” Ymir breathes. “That’s so many of you.”

“Yeah, it’s a miracle really, that we all managed to find each other.”

“Do you know where Reiner is? Or Mikasa?”

Jean stares at the floor. “No, I don’t know about Mikasa.”

“What about Reiner?” 

“Reiner… he passed away last year.”

“What the fuck? How?”

Jean doesn’t say anything. 

“Did he kill himself?”

“Yeah.” There’s pain in his voice. 

“Fuck.” Ymir feels sick. Reiner understood her, and Ymir understood him too, back in their past life. They shared the same pain.

_ Would I have been able to help him? Could I have saved him from this?  _

“I’m really sorry,” Ymir says. It’s two in the morning, and Jean looks as tired and run down as she feels. 

“It’s okay. I’m sure he’s a lot happier now.”

“Mhm.”

There’s a solemn silence. 

“But do you have anyone else?” He asks.

“Historia,” Ymir says, “but she doesn’t remember anything… from before.”

“Fuck... that must be rough.”

“It is.”

“Is she with you?”

“No,” Ymir says shiftily.

“Why not?”

“I… I couldn’t stay with her. When I found her, it was like a dream. It was perfect, getting to know her again, and her getting to know me too. But she didn’t know what I’d done, in our life from before... and the guilt… it was just too much to bear.” She chokes back tears. “I know she would hate me if she found out that I’d left her.”

Jean just looks at her. 

“And,” she continues, “I’m so scared of finding out what happened to her after I… after I died, and-”

“Hang on a second,” Jean interrupts. “You’re saying that because you didn’t want her to find out you left, you left?”

“I-”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever fucking heard,” he laughs. 

Ymir hangs her head in shame.

“You don’t trust her enough to forgive you? Give her some credit. You might not have got to know Historia like I did, but try and trust her, at least.”

“I never thought about it like that.”

“You can’t run away from your problems,” Jean says, putting a hand on her knee. 

Ymir nods. 

“I’m going to go back home. But I think I want to do something first.”

* * *

The next morning the air is warm. The sun shines through the pines, casting long shadows across the ground, and the grass is still wet with dew. Ymir is out of breath by the time she and Jean reach the top of the hill. She holds a bouquet in her hands. 

“Here he is,” Jean says, stopping in front of a modest headstone. 

_ In Memory of Reiner Braun,  _ it reads,  _ 1993-2016. See you in the next life.  _

Reading the words makes her chest tighten. She lays the flowers on the grave and sits down beside it, while Jean watches her in silence. 

Ymir stays that way for a while, considering the what-ifs and the what-could-have-beens; reliving the past, and thinking about the odd relationship she had with Reiner when they had known each other. It upset her, but at the same time, she knew that Reiner deserved peace, after all he had been through and all he had done. 

Living with those memories must have been torture. Ymir can’t imagine the pain this life must have been for him.

“You’re a lot different to how I remember you,” Jean says eventually. 

“I could say the same.”

Ymir lets a long breath and stands up, taking one last look at the grave before they both begin to make their way back down the hill.

“You never told me if you had found anyone else, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I found Eren and Armin. Just ran into them in the park.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. They grew up together.”

“And they’re in London too?” A flash of jealousy passes through his eyes.

“Yeah, they don’t live that far from me.”

“Holy shit. I’ve been looking for him for so long…”

“Who, Eren? I thought you two bickered all the time.”

“No, not Eren, Armin.”

Ymir raises an eyebrow and Jean’s face flushes. “I have his number if you want to talk to him.”

Jean pauses to think for a second. 

“This is sudden and all, but could I come with you? Back to London?”

“Come with me?”

“I really want to see him.”

“I mean, sure. You’ve really helped me out.”

Jean smiles. “Perfect. Let’s go as soon as possible. I’m sure Historia misses you.”

* * *

Defeated. That’s the only word Krista can use to describe how she feels. She stands at the door to Eren and Armin’s place, her hand clenched into a fist, wondering if she should knock.

She had been considering the possibility for the last few weeks, wondering if approaching them would help her find Ymir, but she had always created some kind of excuse not to. Sheer exhaustion and anxiety chained her to her apartment. 

The door looms over her, imposing, almost as if it’s warning her, telling her to turn around and hide under her duvet for the rest of the day. She brings her fist millimeters away from the door and then lets it fall at her side, sighs, and turns away. 

“It’s just around here,” says a voice, and immediately, Krista’s heart begins pounding. This is the most she has felt in weeks, and she strains to listen.  _ Was that her?  _  Without thinking, Krista starts running down the hallway, away from the door and towards that voice. It has to be her. It has to be.

_ Please God, let it be her. _

She stumbles around the corner and reaches the top of the stairs.

“Krista?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then she hits the floor. 


	9. coma

_ Her dream isn’t linear, it makes no sense; it doesn’t tell a story, it’s a lifetime of memories flooding back at once. Her entire childhood returns to her in the blink of an eye. She remembers turning from Historia to Krista, going through training. And Ymir.  _

_ Ymir.  _

_ Every intricate detail of her - the exact shade of brown her hair was; each of the freckles on her cheeks; the way her eyes would light up when she laughed.  _

_ Their first kiss so vivid that as the memory returns to her Historia is astounded that she could have ever forgotten it. Ymir had dragged her off the path on a hike, taking her hand without hesitation. When they were concealed from view Ymir had kissed her like it was the most natural thing in the world. _

_ Krista remembers everything she had adored about Ymir - everything about her that she had worked hard to find out, the secrets of her past and her personality. She had claimed to be a selfish person, someone who relied on nobody but herself, that she cared about nothing but survival. She had turned out to be one of the most selfless people Historia had ever known, someone who had fought countless titans for her, someone who had sacrificed herself.  _

_ Krista remembers how fearless Ymir was, the jokes she had told, the nights they had shared pressed against each other.  _

_ Ymir had helped Krista become Historia again. _

_ And then she had left. _

_ The pain is raw when the memory returns and she relives the experience of being abandoned by the woman she loves. The countless nights spent crying, reading and re-reading the letter her lover had written to her as a final goodbye, trying to understand why.  _

_ She goes through the anger, the grief, the desperation, but she also goes through the acceptance. Historia remembers coming to terms with her situation, finding joy in friends and in the children she would have died for. Her orphanage was the most important thing in the world to her, and Historia experiences the joy of seeing them grow up for a second time. She relives the later years of her life, the last moments when it became her time to say goodbye. _

_ It hadn’t been a perfect life. But Historia left it without regrets. _

* * *

 

The hospital room is bright and white, with sunshine streaming through the slits in the blinds, casting rays of light onto the perfectly made bed. There’s a vase holding some vibrant coloured flowers. The petals are beginning to wilt, and as Ymir enters the room she makes a mental note to change them.

Krista lies in the bed, face up, hooked up to a drip and a few machines. Ymir never gets used to the sight of her like that. She’s so pale and sick-looking that it makes her want to vomit. Feelings of shame and regret only add to her nausea. Ymir sits down on the uncomfortable chair beside the bed She strokes Krista’s hair and caresses her cheek, wishing for nothing more than for her to wake up.

A week ago, when Ymir had returned from Germany, she had been taking Jean to Armin and Eren’s apartment before she went home to Krista. She didn’t know why, but Krista had been there. 

“It’s just around here,” Ymir had said, at the bottom of the last stairwell, and then she heard the rapid footsteps of somebody running. It was Krista. And as she always did, when she saw Jean… she had fainted. 

Time didn’t slow down as Krista began to fall down the stairs. The moment had passed in the blink of an eye, and before she could react or do anything, she was slumped at the bottom of the stairwell, blood dripping from where she had hit her head.

Tears begin to flow as Ymir relives the moment in her mind, wishing she could have done something.The doctors keep saying that she’s showing promising signs, that she might wake up from her coma soon, but nothing has happened yet. 

She watches Krista for a while, until she’s awoken from her trance by a soft knock at the door. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Armin says, stepping inside, Jean behind him. “Are you okay with us coming in?”

“Sure,” Ymir says, not taking her eyes away from Krista. 

“Any changes?” He asks.

“No I don’t think so.”

“Ymir, I wanted to thank you,” Armin says, “for finding Jean. It means a lot to me.”

“No problem.”

There is a long and awkward silence between them. Ymir simply holds Krista’s hand in hers, rubbing her thumb against the soft skin of her palm. 

“Is this my fault?” Ymir chokes out eventually. The words stick in her throat and burn like fire. 

“No, of course it isn’t,” Armin says.

“I mean,” Ymir carries on, “how could it not be? If I hadn’t left, then- if I had been with her-”

“You can’t think like that, it’s not healthy.” Jean goes to place his hand on Ymir’s shoulder but she shrugs it away. A wave of pain crashes through her, and she lets her body fall over Krista’s. She sobs into the blanket, finally letting out all of her emotions. Jean and Armin watch uncomfortably without saying a word.

“You were right,” she cries, her voice muffled by the sheets, “the last time we saw each other, back when… when I was in my titan, and you asked-”

She coughs and wipes her tears away with her sleeve.

“And you asked if I was doing this for you, you… were right, and I- I’m so  _ sorry _ , for leaving, for everything that I did.”

Jean and Armin share a glance and step out of the room. 

“I wanted to be selfish. And I wanted to take you away, have you all to myself. I wanted- I wanted for us to get married, live together, and escape from the life we had to live and be happy. I wanted that for the both of us. I didn’t want you to ever be in danger, or to hurt, or to cry. But that couldn’t happen. And you said that we should live for ourselves, but I don’t want to live a life without you in it. I don’t want to make you sad. I want to be the person who makes you happy.”

Krista’s body shifts slightly; Ymir doesn’t know if she imagined it, but she sits bold upright, wiping away her tears and looking intently at her. She feels the urge to keep talking.

“When I found you I let my happiness eclipse my fear, and I never… well, I tried not to think about the future too much. I wanted to live in the moment, and you were just so happy, and - oh my god!”

Krista’s eyes flicker slightly and Ymir springs up, running out of the door and yelling for a doctor. 

“Ymir,” Krista’s voice is hoarse and scratchy but it’s undeniably hers. 

“Krista,” Ymir runs straight back to her and sinks to her knees beside the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ymir,” she smiles in return. “My name is Historia.”


	10. the end

Historia doesn’t recover all at once. There are tests, and scans, check-ups. Ymir is by her side for it all, supporting her through everything. It’s not easy, but with every day that passes, Historia becomes stronger and surer of herself. After a week, she’s allowed home, with scheduled appointments for later reviews of her injury. 

To Ymir, it feels as if the last six months never happened, or even that her entire new life had ever happened - everything felt normal and just  _ right.  _ Her Historia is back, and everything has perfectly slotted into place. The things she had anxiously obsessed over have become part of her past, and she can finally look forward.

Historia forgives her for leaving. They talk about it for hours. “It’s not as if I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it or to try and understand,” she says when they make it back to her apartment from the hospital. “I mean, I was fucking pissed, but I came around. I get it.”

Ymir looks at her, knowing how hard that must have been. She takes Historia’s hand and squeezes it tightly, vowing to never let it go. 

A normal life isn’t something they can have, but they’ve accepted that. Their life is weird - and that’s okay. They don’t keep secrets and they are open with each other. They tell each other everything about their previous lives. Ymir explains the motivations behind her actions, and Historia tells Ymir all about her life after she had gone. They learn things about each other that they never thought they’d get to know. Little things, like why Ymir’s favourite colour is blue, and how Historia adores the smell of the seaside. 

Historia changes her name legally, and they get a new apartment. Moving into the flat makes everything feel so  _ real _ . It’s a big step for the both of them, and a confirmation that  _ yes, we’re doing this. _

After countless appointments, Historia’s head wound heals, and she manages to take her exams. Ymir finds a job at the Italian restaurant where they’d had their first date as a waitress. They don’t have much money, but they don't care - they have each other.

Armin moves out of his flat with Eren and into a new place with Jean, soon after announcing their relationship. Eren takes control of the website they had created, updating the page with the faces and names of everyone Ymir found in Germany, while remaining in the same apartment sulking about how Armin had left him for Jean. 

Months pass, and summer rolls around once more. It has almost been a year since that morning in the coffee shop, when Ymir and Historia had first found one another. Looking back on that memory is strange for Historia - she is a whole new person now, and Krista is someone she can barely recognise. That doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing Ymir for the first time in this life.

* * *

It’s a day like any other when they get the call. 

“Hello?” Historia murmurs groggily down the phone at six in the morning. 

“Historia!” Eren’s voice yells, startling her. 

“What is i-”

“I think I’ve found her!”

Ymir rolls over in bed, rubbing her eyes. 

“Who is it?” She mouths. 

“Eren,” Historia mouths back. 

“Are you listening?” Eren asks, and without waiting for Historia to answer, he continues. “Anyway, she’s contacted me, and I really think it’s her!”

“Who?”

“Mikasa!” 

Historia gasps. “Wait, what?  _ Mikasa?” _

“Yeah!”

“Where is she?”

“She’s in Canada, but she wants to come to London after I told her about all of us.”

Historia’s eyes well up with tears. Ymir shakes her head and looks confused so Historia puts the phone on loudspeaker. 

“Hey, Eren,” Ymir says. 

“Hey, ‘Mir.”

“So you found her huh?”

“I think so. Do you two want to come over? I’ve asked Armin and Jean too.”

“Sure,” Historia says, sitting up and swinging her legs out of bed. “Give us 20 minutes.”

* * *

 

At Eren’s flat, the five of them wait anxiously for the Skype call to connect. Eren is frantically smoothing down his hair and checking it in the monitor. Historia squeezes Ymir’s hand. 

“Eren?” 

They all hear Mikasa’s voice as the face camera loads, and suddenly there she is, through the screen. Historia’s immediate thought is that Mikasa looks so different - she’s missing her signature scarf, and her sleek black hair is long and tied into two plaits. 

“Oh my god,” she says. Her Canadian accent is strong. “You’re all here.”

Armin’s eyes fill up with tears - Eren is lost for words. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Armin says. “We all have.”

“Me too,” Mikasa says. She’s beaming, smiling more than Historia had ever seen her smile.

“You need to get here,” Eren says, welling up a little himself. “Come and stay with me, I have a spare room.”

Mikasa looks surprised. “You just expect me to leave my whole life behind?”

Eren opens his mouth but no words come out. “I-”

Mikasa laughs. “Sure.”

* * *

 

The airport bustles with people travelling to destinations all around the globe. Historia grips Ymir’s hand tightly as they navigate through the sea of people in arrivals. It’s been almost a month since the Skype call, and the group have been anxiously awaiting Mikasa’s arrival the whole time. 

“There they are,” Ymir says, finally spotting Armin, Eren and Jean. 

Eren paces nervously, pale as a ghost, his hands balled into fists so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. Armin and Jean are sitting down on a bench together watching a video on Armin’s phone. Jean’s arm is draped around his shoulders, and Armin holds a red scarf in his hands.

“Hey,” Eren says as they approach. “She should be here any minute.”

The minutes pass so slowly that Historia could swear time is slowing down. Eventually, the tannoy announces the plane’s arrival, and the group huddle together nervously, watching as a steady stream of people begin to come through the doors. Armin passes the scarf to Eren, who stares at it, wide-eyed, for a second. When he looks up, Historia notices the determination on his face. 

And then she walks through the doors.

Or rather, she sprints, her long hair flowing behind her. An airport attendant yells at her, but Mikasa doesn’t care; as her suitcase falls to the floor she outstretches her arms, and pulls Eren in for a rib-crushing hug. After a brief second Armin joins them, and then Jean; suddenly, they are all enveloped in each other’s arms, laughing and crying. Historia closes her eyes and squeezes tightly. Ymir’s arms are around her - there’s not a more perfect feeling in the world.

Despite what happened in their previous lives, they are all back together. It doesn’t matter if it was due to chance, or to fate - all they care about is that they get to have a future. 

 


End file.
